


A Step Forward

by plumandfinch



Category: Call the Midwife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4623537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumandfinch/pseuds/plumandfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Timothy who found it, the worn, dust covered bear. He froze, heart dully beating in his ears and Shelagh, noticing the way his face had paled then reddened all at once, padded over. “Timmy?” she ventured softly. “I forgot”, he breathed, “It was Mum’s.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Step Forward

It was Timothy who found it, the worn, dust covered bear. He froze, heart dully beating in his ears and Shelagh, noticing the way his face had paled then reddened all at once, padded over. “Timmy?” she ventured softly. “I forgot”, he breathed, “It was Mum’s.”

His face reddened again and his fingers traced a pattern around the thread nose. Shelagh looked down at the stuffed bear in his arms and willed the knot in her stomach to unclench, tried to slow her heartbeat. Timothy stared hard at a moth-eaten ear. “Dad gave it to her when they got married. She kept it by their bed for the nights he was out on call.” He stopped, not meeting her eyes, fingers continuing their rounds. “Ah,” she said after a moment, “that must have been nice for her to have. I do miss your Dad when he is on a call.” He inhales and looks at her then, eyes bright “Maybe you should have it then. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” The last words come out as a jumble, a blessing, a step forward. It is her turn to redden and she stammers “Oh, I-, I don’t know. Surely, it belongs to your Mum and you.” His eyes dart down again. “Well…” His fingers go back to tracing. She can hear the rain coming down in buckets, the very reason they are in the upstairs hallway sorting through the closets. “Well…” he says again, “You are my mum now, too.”

— 

Patrick doesn’t get home until well into the night. Despite his new raincoat, he is distinctly damp as he lets himself into the house. He quietly shakes off his coat and pauses after draping it on the hook. Sometimes, Shelagh will wait up for him but she is working at the clinic tomorrow and he is unsurprised to find the house slumbering. He shrugs off his sopping wet shoes in the foyer and wearily shuffles into the hallway, past the kitchen where a plate is waiting for him that he decides he will leave for tomorrow. A cursory glance at the living room tells him that Shelagh didn’t doze off on the couch so he tugs on the light switch and feels his way into the upstairs hallway in the dark.

A stop by Timothy’s room tells him that the boy is deep asleep, artifacts of the day’s activities strewn about the floor catch the moonlight as Patrick leans down to brush Timothy’s hair off his forehead and leaves a kiss on his temple. He quietly lets himself into the bathroom where he can change in the light and hang his wet clothes. Stifling a yawn, he slides into their bedroom and finds that Shelagh has fallen asleep with his bedside lamp on again. When he leans down to switch it off, she shifts quietly in her sleep and that is when he sees that she has curled herself protectively around Margaret’s bear now inexplicably wearing one of Timothy’s school ties. There is a tug of old pain at the sight of it and he sits wearily on the bed. When he looks back, her eyes are on him, the pain fades, and he feels the now familiar rush of warmth as he gets lost in their blue depths. She untangles an arm and joins her hand with his. The glint in the blue gets sharper as she gently squeezes his hand. “He called me Mum.”


End file.
